Bourbon Wishes On Christmas
by traumajunkie
Summary: Damon drunkenly opens the door to the past -and future. Angst filled DE delisciousness including a canon bit from 4x07, an AH twist on 6x10, and a futristic glimpse of a human DE straight from my own head canons. Disclaimer: I own nothing related to The Vampire Diaries, including these characters.


She's still here. I never should have opened this damn door. The room still smells like her, it still feels like her. _She_ overwhelmed me as soon as I opened the door. Just like I knew she would. The pillow on the still rumpled bed is still bent the way she had it wrapped under her head when I woke to find her watching me sleep. I'd lay my life on the line in a bet that if I were to take my spot on the bed and put my face next to that perfect pillow it would still smell like her lavender and vanilla lotion. But even I'm not that much of a masochist. Hell, maybe I am. What the fuck am I doing in this doorway anyways? I blame the bourbon. And my new depleted tolerance. Who would have thought that not drinking for a few months would have an effect on me after all these years? Certainly not me. Drinking bourbon is on the list of things I can't do very often anymore. It's just too damn painful. And well, if it's not bourbon quite frankly, it's not worth drinking.

The bourbon slides down nice and smooth as it always has, the problem now is that I pick up my glass and remember any one of a hundred times she her grabbed the glass from my hand, downing the liquor before I could gasp a protest and handing me back an empty cup with a smirk and a sassy comment about something I'd done or not done. She'd never get a glass of her own, and always said no when I asked, but damn if she didn't love to steal mine when she got upset. And damn if I didn't love it when she did.

Then there was the time I didn't ask, didn't give her the chance to say no, nor did I give her the chance to steal mine. I just handed her a tumbler. Two fingers. Neat. I can still feel the slide of her fingers against my palm as she took it wordlessly and pressed the cup to her lips, downing half the pour in one gulp, a throaty "thanks" on her lips. I can still feel the heat from her big beautiful brown eyes that I just wanted to drown in as she looked at me over the rim of that cup. Too soon, she tore her gaze away and stared down at the floor. I knew she'd had a hard day, and I'd have done anything to remove the pain and guilt from her eyes. Even if that anything included avoiding —delaying rather- the tension that was so blatant between us. "I was being polite, I thought you hated whiskey," I'd begun. It seemed safer than any of the other subjects I actually wanted to discuss. As we toasted our membership in the my-brother-wants-to-kill-me club she spoke again, and goddamn if her words didn't gut me to the core. Shit, I'm getting upset over it now, just remembering.

 _Her eyes are fixed on that spot on the floor as she sighs, "Jeremy can't live with me, Stefan wants to fix me, and Caroline flat out admitted that she doesn't like me that way." She's now staring into a square of blank space in the distance, but she glances at me briefly before dropping her gaze back to the spot on the floor. "I think it's safe to say that I'm not so great at this vampire thing." Fucking hell. The way she looked at me like she was at once apologizing and begging for acceptance cut me to my core. And then when she looked away, back down at the floor again with a self-deprecating smile, I couldn't take one more second. Because it isn't about them. Our friends are assholes, but that's their problem. What hurts is that she has no idea. She's stuck so deep in what everyone else needed and trying to do right by everyone else that… Well, that's the part I can fix._

 _"_ _You want to know what I think?" She shifts in her seat, turning her shoulders towards me, and meeting my gaze again. "I don't think I've ever seen you more alive." She stares, blinking exactly twice before she lets half a smile crack through. What I wouldn't give to have her look at me like that every damn day of our lives. She glances at the floor one last time, and I hear her heart beat a touch faster. On another smile and a small huff she looks up at me through those lashes that go on for miles and says the words I've been wanting to hear all afternoon. Because they're the same ones running through my head. "That dance that they did today? Kind of reminded me of when—" "We danced together?" I finish. She nods and my gaze shifts to her lips as she presses them together ever so slightly, steeling herself to say, "I wanted to dance with you today." I break my stare after a couple seconds and set my bourbon on the table. I grab the glass from her loose grasp, set it on the table next to mine, and stand, offering her my hand. She stares at my extended fingers and I watch her gaze trace up my arm until she meets my eyes. She blinks slowly, smiles my favorite smile -the one I don't think she even knows she's making- and places her long and delicate fingers in mine. She lets me lead her closer to the fireplace and as our hands close around one another and her other hand rests on my shoulder I'm certain life doesn't get any better than this. I'm wrong. Because then she steps closer and presses her forehead against my cheek, her chest lightly into mine, and sighs like she just got home from a journey in the desert. Fucking christ. The hard-on I'd been sporting ever since I saw her walk down those stairs in that fuck-tight black lace dress she had on earlier that day is going to need things to change one way or the other. I either need to move her away from me so I can't feel her perfect breasts rub against me like a purring cat every time she breathes against my neck, or I'll need to push her up against the wall and give my poor cock the soft cushion and friction he's begging for. In the interest of playing the gentleman I go with option number one._ _I deserve a fucking medal. What I end up getting is so much better. Because as I spin her out and began to guide her back to my arms she puts her hand on the side of my neck, attaches her lips to mine, and just …fuck. My mind has been unforgivably inadequate in it's memory of just how good she tastes. And how soft her lips are. All the air has left my lungs, and I couldn't care less if I ever take another breath ever. She makes a little mewl noise in the back of her throat and parts her lips just as my tongue traces her bottom one. Her tongue darts out to meet mine, her hands thread through my hair, angling my head to get better access. My tongue dives deep in her mouth, mimicking other places I want to be. I feel her fingernails scrape lightly down my chest as she moves her hands from my hair toward my belt. Fucking Christ. If she gets any further it might turn real embarrassing for me real quick. I grab her wrist and guide her arm back around my neck as I suck the remainder of the traces of bourbon from her sweet mouth. I push my hips against hers because I can't not, and my last thought as she takes over and pushes me against the wall -knocking over a lamp and scattering my shirt buttons in the process- is that never in my life has bourbon tasted as good as it does in her mouth…_

I shake my head. What the fuck is wrong with me? Don't answer that. I know exactly what is wrong with me. What's wrong with me is that the other half of my soul is is a fucking "coma-like trance." What the fuck is that anyway? Who talks like that? Fucking witches. Tonight the problem is that I let the pain back in. Just a bit. I opened the bourbon because I just needed to be closer to her for just a minute. Then I drank half the bottle because it was never close enough. Now here I am, standing in this god-forsaken doorway smelling the traces of her perfume and lotion, holding a bottle of bourbon that doesn't taste as good as her, staring at the tangle of cords from her flat-iron and blow dryer. And the pile of bobby-pins on next to her sink. Those little fuckers are like rabbits. They multiply. Elena was always complaining she couldn't find any of them, and I found them everywhere. On the floor, in the kitchen, in the shower, at the foot of our bed —of course it was probably partly my fault that they ended up in a few of those places. I wasn't always patient enough to let her take her hair down herself. She never seemed to complain… What I wouldn't give to find freshly discarded bobby pins laying next to the couch in the den right now.

Nope, can't think about that either. It hurts too damn bad. I take another long pull from the bottle of bourbon in my hand and gently shut the door to our room. I can't let myself go back inside yet. I haven't opened this door since I closed it the night I came home without her. I think it'll be a while before I open it again.

I turn around and make my way back down the hall to the stairs, bumping into the bannister as I go. The sound of shattering glass startles me, apparently I dropped the nearly-empty bottle. "Fuck you" I mumble at the offending rail. I make my way back to the kitchen and open the cupboard to get a glass. If I'm gonna open another bottle, and of course I am because this is a stupid stupid day and I'm going to keep drinking until it doesn't hurt this bad, I'd better drink it from a glass instead of from the bottle. I can't waste more good bourbon if I can't hold onto the bottle, and the way the night was going I was going to feel like throwing things again.

Why the hell hadn't Stefan or Blondie done dishes after their last little get-together? The only glasses in the cupboard were reindeer mugs. Cheesy Christmas reindeer mugs. Fucking Christ. I'm just gonna make that the phrase of the night. Because Fucking Christ…

 _I check my hair one last time in the mirror as I hear her little hand rap on the door three times. Have I ever been this nervous? Maybe on our first official date, but she doesn't remember that so for now it doesn't count. I'm like a fucking 15 year old about to pick up his prom date. Only, she's coming here. I'm not sure how I managed to convince her to let me cook her dinner, but when God gives you a gift… I mean, things have been going really well lately —considering— but when she said that she'd had a crappy day all I could think about was the last time she told me that. After attacking my mouth in a way that no one could ever do better. "I had a really crappy day, and I needed it," she'd said. Smart ass, I kissed her again for that one too._

 _I open the door and actually stop breathing. Will she ever not effect me this way? There she is in her black pea coat and white beanie, cheeks flushed form the cold, eyes dancing with excitement, a grin on her beautiful face as she waves a sprig of mistletoe in the air. "Mistletoe," she sings. Am I really seeing this? Because I know she doesn't remember the last time she said that, but I'm not going to pass up the opportunity. I stepped down onto the porch, and can't help but grin back. She's so fucking beautiful it hurts. I raise my fingertips to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, and let them linger around her ear before settling on the back of her neck, my thumb absently rubbing her jaw. She tilts her head up on a sharp inhale and grins a bit wider when I catch her staring at my mouth. Chastely I fit my lips to hers. Fucking hell, how had I gone so long without this? Her lips fit perfectly against mine as I kiss her once, twice, a third time gently sucking on her bottom lip -still keeping my mouth closed before I let her go and step back. As heavenly as it feels I can't shake the feeling that she's like a baby deer in the wild and I don't want to spook her away. I can't help but nudge her nose with mine playfully as I step back and reach for her hand to lead her inside. I shut the door against the cold and take the green paper bag overflowing with brown tissue paper from her as she shrugs out of her coat. She pulls her beanie off her head, hands it to me with a smile, and I'm fairly certain I keep my "fuuuuccckk" groan to myself because she doesn't slap me. She definitely would have if she knew where her just-fucked looking hair and flushed cheeks and lips took my brain. And cock. Mentally trying to shake my head back in the game I hang her coat on the rack and place the beanie on top. I turned around to find her staring up at me with a look I can't quite name, but that I like. A lot._

 _"_ _Wine?" I hear myself ask. Nice, we'll go with that, I think to myself. Anything to distract me for a second from the way she keeps sticking her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. Jesus._

 _"_ _Sure!" She replies and I turn around to lead her to the kitchen. "I brought dessert for after dinner," she said swinging the festive green bag out of my hand and onto the counter as she lifts herself onto a bar stool. I hand Elena a glass of wine. She crosses her arms as she leans on the counter toward me and grins asking, "What smells so good? I'm starving?" On cue her belly grumbles, the oven timer goes off, and I laugh. I turn back to the stove, shutting it off and removing the pan from the cook-top. I turn around and almost drop my damn glass of wine. She's reaching up on her toes to get plates from the cabinet behind me. The way the denim molds to her ass is a true work of art. I follow the lines of that denim until they disappear into knee-high tan leather boots. Fuck me. I let my eyes wander back up over her back-side and along the curves wrapped snugly in a white cable-knit sweater. I am a lucky son of a bitch. There's no arguing that fact. She grabs the plates, lowers herself back down, and pulls the sweater back over the waist of her jeans -edffectively cutting off my gaze from the smooth tan skin of her belly that I'd been staring at. She clears her throat and I swear to god she's blushing. Adorable. "I got the plates…" she trails off. "Mmmhmm," I mumble, clearing my throat. It's going to take a concentrated effort to string intelligible words together if she keeps that up._

 _I quickly finish my glass of wine and pour another. Several minutes later we're seated at the dining room table I don't think I've used in years. She'd set the table with her spot perpendicular to mine, which was fine until I realized that in her memory it had never been and certainly wasn't ok now to let my fingers roam up her legs every time I felt her knee brush mine. This memory wipe was a real bitch. Fucking Alaric._

 _I'm almost finished with my dinner and I'm not going to survive this night, this is how I'm going to die. I watch her wrap her lips around her last bite of eggplant parmesan. Great. Now I'm jealous of a fucking piece of silver. Her eyes close, and fucking hell, the noises she's making with almost every bite. I should have made something besides her favorite. This was torture. Every last drop of blood in my body is in my cock and I'm not going to survive this night. Or my cock isn't. I'm so hard it physically hurts. And have been for nearly an hour. If she keeps it up with the blissed-out look on her face and the little moans I'm going to come in my pants. Look, no hands!_

 _I'm still staring when she opens her eyes and suddenly they're molten. I watch as she swallows then my gaze darts to that damn little tongue of hers that sweeps out to the corner of her mouth again. She takes another sip of her wine before standing and holding her hand out to me. "Dance with me…" she almost whispers. And because I'm powerless to not give her everything she wants I grab her hand and pull her close. This is heaven. Right here. The way we fit together, do other people feel this way? Our bodies are literally made to fit each others. It's amazing the way she fits herself into the nook of my chest, her right hand enveloped in mine, her left hand against my chest. My hand that's not holding hers naturally falls around her waist to rest at the small of her back. This is the happiest I've ever been. At least in the past month._

 _I look down as I feel her lift her face toward mine and before I know what's happening, Elena is kissing me. Her palms slide up my chest, through my hair and around the back of my neck as she pushes up on her toes, crushing her chest to mine and parting her lips on a sigh. I waste no time accepting that invitation. The tip of my tongue teasingly flicks her upper lip just once before I sweep inside her mouth, her tongue matching and melding to my every move. Her brain might not remember but goddamn if her mouth doesn't remember this dance._

 _I hadn't realized our feet are still moving until I hear her groan as she backs into the counter top. Our lips part, coming up for air, and I can't stop the grin spreading across my face. I press my forehead to hers, looking deep in her eyes and start to ask the question I'm praying will be answered in the affirmative. "Elena—" is all I get out on a throaty half-whisper before she nudges my nose with hers and murmurs "Mmmhmm," against my lips. Perfect. She rolls her hips against mine, wordlessly asking for more friction as her tongue takes control of my mouth. I don't know what I did to deserve this woman in my life, but I'll gladly spend the rest of eternity showing my appreciation._

 _Several hours later we lay completely and utterly spent on the living room floor near the fireplace. Her cheek against my chest, her legs entwined in mine, our breathing slowly returning to normal. I lean down to kiss the top of her head, my fingers combing through her hair. The arm she had across my abdomen and chest begins to move and then suddenly stills. "Ooh, I almost forgot!" She says as she pushes herself halfway up, inadvertently but perhaps by divine intervention on my behalf, placing her perfect breasts directly in my field of vision. I slide my hand up her side and just as I'm about to palm a perfect orb she grins and jumps up, stealing the blanket that had been covering us, and runs into the kitchen._

 _I would have pouted if the grin on her face and sparkle of excitement in her eyes wasn't to goddamn adorable. As it is I stand and stretch the muscles I haven't used in far too long. We'd gotten creative the last couple times there. I saunter into the kitchen still gloriously naked to find my girl wrapped in the green cashmere blanket, dumping little while marshmallows into two steaming green mugs with reindeer antlers sticking out the sides. With fucking jingle bells on them. "Babe, what are you doing?"_

 _"_ _I almost forgot about desert!" When she sees the smirk on my face and the comment about to come out my mouth she nods toward the bag I'd forgotten that she'd walked in with earlier. Before all the food and the fucking. Her grin is literally from ear to ear as she hands me a mug that I now realize not only has antlers and bells, but is complete with a red fucking nose. If Alaric were to see me now… well… let's just not go there. Because I'll be damned if I can stop the grin spreading across my face; a direct result of her infectious enthusiasm. I'm a bit confused by the marshmallows that appears to be melting together, but I take a sip anyways. "That's not bourbon." I state the obvious as she grins at me over her own mug that she holding with both hands. "Hot chocolate, you dork. In Christmas mugs. Because, well… Christmas." "Mmm," I reply taking another large sip before setting my mug on the counter and gathering the beautiful girl before me into my arms. She takes a sip of her own, then another, then shakes the mug in my face so the bells hanging on the antlers jingle. I can't help but chuckle. She takes another sip before setting her mug next to mine on the counter. I kiss the marshmallow mustache from her upper lip before coaxing her mouth open and sucking her tongue gently into my mouth. Turns out I like the taste of hot chocolate in Elena's mouth just as much as I like taste of bourbon…_

You know what? Fuck it. I don't need this. I'll drink from the bottle like a goddamn man. Vampire. What the fuck ever. I close the kitchen cupboard leaving the reindeer mugs in the dark and open a fresh bottle of bourbon on my way to the living room. I sink into the warm leather that's not nearly as comfortable without Elena on it and take a long pull from the bottle. Christmas fucking Eve. What a stupid stupid goddamn day. A tear slips out of my left eye and down my cheek. I wipe it away and settle down on the couch to a long winter's nap as it were. I stare into the fire as the effects of the alcohol I've consumed begin to take hold. I close my eyes for just a moment.

 _You know the feeling you get when you're being watched? That feeling I'm getting right now. Two whispered giggles break into my conscious and I fight back a grin, keeping my eyes closed._

 _"_ _They're still asleep. Maybe they don't know santa came."_

 _"_ _C'mon bubba, you said I just had to go back to bed one more time. Let's wake 'em up now, daddy won't be mad! 'Sides mommy would be sad if she slept through Christmas."_

 _More giggling ensues and I feel my wife shake to suppress a giggle of her own. Alerting only myself that she's awake. She confirms my suspicion when she wiggles her ass ever so slightly against my morning hard-on. Enough to make sure I'm awake, but not enough to be discovered by our five and three year olds at the foot of the bed. The satin of her nightgown slides agains the fabric of my pajama pants. Getting used to wearing pajamas was a bitch and a half but it's mornings like these when I remember why it's worth it. I wrap my arm tighter around my beautiful wife, pulling her even close against my chest and place a kiss against the spot where her neck meets her shoulder before yawning and stretching dramatically. James and Emery simultaneously shriek and dive to the floor in an effort to not be discovered._

 _"_ _Sssshhhhh" I hear James whisper to his sister who giggles in response. I let out a playful roar as I jump to the foot of the bed peering down at the two sets of eyes twinkling back up at me. Neither of them jump, Emery just full-on laughed. That girl was going to be as fearless as her mother. God help us all. The three-year old in question pops up from her crouched position and throws her arms around my neck. "Daddy!" She squeals. "SANTA CAME!" Light dances in her crystal clear blue eyes. The lone feature she inherited from me. Her long chestnut hair was tangled on one side and her olive skin has sleep lines from her pillow that haven't worn off yet. I haul her up over the foot of the bed and help James climb over the foot-board before laying back down next to Elena who is being smothered in hugs from both children._

 _"_ _Are you sure santa came? You know he can't come if you're awake, right?" Elena asks with a serious look on her face. Emery giggles and James dutifully reports, "We slept ALL night mama." He sounds serious, but there's still a twinkle in his deep brown eyes. Emery counters with "'Sides, we already sneaked in and saw that santa DID come." This confession earns her a glare from her older brother and a laugh from her mother._

 _"_ _Well then, I guess we better go see what Santa left out there," Elena declares. It takes about 0.2 seconds for both children to be off the bed and waiting at the doorway for us to join them._

 _"_ _C'mon bubba," Emery said as she grabs James' hand and starts down the hall._

 _"_ _Wait for us you two," I warn playfully._

 _"_ _Told ya Emmy," James whispers to his sister, who humphs in response and looks back expectantly at her parents. I wink at James._

 _I pull on a black tshirt and hand Elena her robe as she climbs out from beneath the covers. She stands and I bend to press my lips to hers. "Good morning baby," I greet her, earning an eye-roll from James and a "Yuck!" from Emery. Elena smiles up at me, grabs my hand and together we follow our children down the hallway._

 _"_ _You feel ok?" I whisper into her hair so only she can hear._

 _"_ _The greatest," she smiles back up at me, leaning up for another kiss._

 _"_ _Emmy, I get to go first this year!" an irritated James calls from the other room. I chuckle to myself and go to make my wife her morning tea as she joins our children in the living room who are sitting impatiently in a pile of still-wrapped presents._

 _I hand my wife her tea in a green mug with reindeer antlers and a red nose and we smile at each other. No one has ever had a better life than me. No one can convince me otherwise as I sit on the couch and pull Elena onto my lap. My hand wraps protectively around the bump that isn't showing quite yet. I can't wait until we get to tell the kids about the present they don't get to unwrap today, the one that's coming at the end of May. But first, let's get to the ones under the tree._

I smile as I stir on the couch surrounded by Elena's scent. Then reality sets in and it hurts like a mother fucker. Just call me Charles Fucking Dickins. I've had enough of this Christmas past and future shit and the present one just keeps getting more painful and depressing memory by blissful fucking memory. I reach for my phone on the table next to me. Maybe I'll take Ric up on his offer to spend tomorrow with him and Jenna at their place. If nothing else I won't have to endure this shitty holiday on my own. I shoot off a quick confirmation text and set the phone down before heading up the stairs. I pause briefly as I pass by the door to our room —the doorway where this painful journey down memory lane began earlier tonight. With no bidding from me my fingers lift to brush against the closed door. "Merry Christmas baby. I miss you," I say quietly to no one. Then I continue down the hall to the guest room where I'll try to sleep for a couple hours until morning.


End file.
